Left Overs
by NekyuToi
Summary: The survivors of the most lethal pandemic ever manage to escape what is left of the United States successfully. But what happens after the terrible tragedy which resulted in the loss of so many lives?
1. Dinner!

Left Overs

_Left 4 Dead, its settings, characters and anything else related to the product are owned by Valve._

_Chapter One: Dinner!_

It was the first day of spring, and butterflies could be seen fluttering around the beautiful flowers of many different colours. Gazing outside her kitchen window, Rochelle couldn't help but smile as she enjoyed the peaceful view of her street. In the sunshine children played, and lovers held hands as they enjoyed the day. Snapping back into reality, Rochelle realised she completely forgotten about the chicken in the oven; she certainly hoped that it hadn't burned due to her neglect! Bending down, she yanked the oven door open and peered inside; luckily it was cooked _just_ right, so without delay she put an oven mitt on and pulled it out of the oven. It smelled wonderful; she had added the perfect combination of spices to make the dish come alive with taste.

"Guys, dinner!" she called up the stairs. She knew in just a few moments she would hear the familiar footsteps down the stairs as they rushed into the kitchen to taste her wonderful cooking. She looked on in glee as she saw Coach, Nick and Ellis quickly take their places, eager for their meal. As she cut up the chicken and divided it amongst four plates, each decorated with various vegetables, she thought back to last year, when things had been much different. Caught up in the most famous pandemic of _any _century, Rochelle and the men who sat before her were nearly killed as they attempted to escape the United States away from the horror. It all seemed like a bad dream now, though, and she had settled in pretty well to her new life in London, England. Sure, things were a little different from America, but it was better than living in what was now a radioactive crater, demolished by the combined forces of the United Nations to control the spread of the pandemic which had caused the losses of so many lives...

"Man, Ro." Coach began, as he rubbed his hands together. "You sure know how to cook; so do we get dessert after this?" he asked, his eyes shimmering with hope. Coach was Rochelle's closest friend out of the trio, and she confided in him many things. Barely able to contain a smile, Rochelle placed her hand over a tea cloth that hid a dish. With a giggle, she pulled the tea cloth away to reveal a beautiful chocolate gateaux that she had spent hours making just for him. Coach yelled in glee as he saw the soft, creamy chocolate gateaux that sat only a few feet away from him, tempting him. A pang of guilt hit Rochelle as she quickly hid the cake again; she knew she shouldn't _really _be cooking such delicious treats, as Coach was considered 'morbidly obese' by his doctors now. Shuffling about in his chair, Coach inhaled the fragrance of Rochelle's cooking as she placed the plate in front of him.

"Gosh, Ro!" Ellis cried out, brushing down his red flannel shirt. "You sure darn know how to cook. I wish my mother had been like you..." he sighed, as images of cheap perfume and gin flooded across his mind's eye for a moment. Shaking his head a little, he quickly dove into his dinner without waiting for anyone else to begin.

"God damn, Ellis." Coach scolded him, angrily. "At least wait 'till Ro's sat down."

"Don't bother." Nick interrupted. He filed his nails, seemingly disinterested by the dinner that Rochelle had spent hours slaving over. Looking up at Coach, he winked at him. "He does it every time, so why bother?"

"You're right, I guess..." Coach laughed, as he also dug into his dinner. After Rochelle had sat down and tucked into her own plate, Nick started himself, picking at the chicken and pushing the peas around the plate in apparent boredom. Rochelle wasn't offended, as she knew he was suffering from depression; she had accidentally opened a letter addressed to him and found out about it from his doctor. She felt stuck, for she couldn't say anything about it otherwise he'd know she had read his letter. But then again, she knew there was nothing she could do. It was obvious why he was depressed, because he had left the country he had loved... he missed the life of a con-artist in the only country that understood him.

The quartet that now lived in a house together in London, England, were not what most people considered a normal family. Four Americans, all from different backgrounds, immune to the deadliest infection this side of the red light district, living together in a posh suburb of an English city was not what most people considered normal. Living on compensation from the American government, they were each now worth at least one hundred million dollars each, so none of them needed to work. They had tried integrating socially with the people who lived in the area, but most of the people they met ran away in terror, fearful of catching the disease from them. Rochelle, Coach, Nick and Ellis knew that they were immunised and safe from the awful disease, but no one would listen. Nowadays, they only had four friends in the entire world... people who had gone through the same situation as them. Living next door to them were the only people who understood: four Americans who also survived the pandemic and immigrated to England. Their names were Zoey, Francis, Louis and Bill.


	2. Leftovers

_Chapter Two: Leftovers_

It was the first day of spring, and birds were singing softly amongst the branches of green leaves that swayed in a gentle breeze. Slowly awakening from the her slumber by the sweet songs of the birds, Zoey opened her eyes gently against the daylight of the morning. Yawning heavily, she pushed away the sheet that covered her and leant up against the wall, struggling to hold back the vomit from the hangover she currently had.

She glanced at the floor, only to note the many bottles of vodka that lay empty on the floor; the sun's rays hit the glass, blinding her with its bright light.

"Shit!" she spat, kicking away the bottles that lay at her feet. Something beside her stirred as she barely held consciousness.

"Ugh.." came a raspy voice. "Zoey... what are you doin'... waking me up. Goddamn!"

Bill groaned as he sat up beside the dark-haired vixen, brushing the ash away from his vest. Lighting up a cigarette, memories of last night slowly came rushing back; he and Zoey had yet again had a 'midnight encounter'.

"Man, Bill." she moaned. "My head's killing me. Be a sweet and go get me some aspirin."

"I will in a bit, Zoey." he replied, as he dragged deeply on his cigarette. "Just let me get my head together."

As she was about to pass out, she suddenly heard gun shots from outside. In the past she would have been shocked by this, but she knew it was only Francis, shooting the birds outside.

"Fuck you, little birdies!" Francis screamed as he ran about in the garden firing madly in the air. "You can get me with your diseases! Ahahah!" he laughed manically as he quickly reloaded his gun only to fire once again into the trees. After a horrible pandemic which forced him to defend himself armed only with a machine gun and pistol, Francis was left with severe post-traumatic stress, and still believed any moving creature outside of his circle of friends to be a threat. Therefore, the police and other people avoided him completely, leaving him to fire weapons in his backyard and throw molotov cocktails around. His three other friends however, Louis, Bill and Zoey were left to clean up after him. After a few weeks of replacing furniture that was burnt or shot, they all just gave up cleaning and decided to live in it. They were rich after all, by the compensation they received after the pandemic, so why did anything need to be in good condition? A sofa was still a sofa, with or without bullets lodged into it.

Spitting on the ground, Francis threw away the machine gun and holstered his pistol, going back inside the house now that the wildlife in the vicinity was dead. Feeling hungry, he headed to the kitchen which had nothing in it except five refrigerators, all stocked with the best food in England.

"Damn, there's not much food." Francis thought, as he grabbed a cornish pasty and stuffed it into his mouth, savouring the beefy taste. Feeling a little less stressed, now that he had killed a few things, he headed back upstairs and into his bedroom. Although he made a violent mess everywhere else he went, he kept his bedroom in wonderful condition, much to the frustration of Zoey, who wished he was this clean in the rest of the house. His bedroom had a beautiful persian rug over its buffed wooden floorboards that shimmered as the light from outside hit them through the red, silk drapes that hung over the window. He walked slowly over to his luxury double bed and sat down on it, taking off his shoes.

"Hey, Louis." he whispered, grabbing his friend's shoulder and shaking him slowly awake as he lay under the silken covers. "Time to wake up!"

Louis slowly wakened and turned to face Francis, who still kept his goatee in perfect shape. He looked around the room... it wasn't his.

"Did we...?" Louis softly asked, as he rubbed his eyes.

"Heck, I guess we did." Francis replied, a laugh in voice.

"Sorry, man. You know what I'm like after a few drinks." Louis turned red with embarrassment. It wasn't the first time they had slept together, but he didn't want Francis to think he was _that _easy.

"'S okay. Anyway, the areas clear, and it's a nice day today. So why don't I get Zoey and Bill and we can have a picnic in the back garden?" he suggested, rubbing his hands together.

"Oh, sure!" Louis smiled, sitting up and against the back of the bed. "Maybe we could invite over the others, too."

"You mean Ro & Co.? Not a bad idea. I've got some new recipes I'd like Coach to try."

"Hey, Francis!" came a voice from the other side of the door. "You in?"

Without waiting for a response, Bill stumbled into his bedroom, half dressed with a cigarette hanging out from his mouth. "Oh, hey Louis." Bill smiled, tipping his hat. "Anyway, you coming on down? I just got a telephone call from Ellis about some party Rochelle is holding tonight."

"Another party?" Louis asked in disbelief. They had only just had one last night!

"You got that right, pal." Bill chuckled, flicking the ash from his cigarette into his hand. He didn't want to upset Francis by messing up his room, even in the slightest.

"We'll be down in a sec." Francis replied, excited that another party was about to begin! After Bill had left, Francis leapt over to his wardrobe and opened it quickly, gazing inside at the clothes and wondering what he could wear to the party. He sifted through the many leather jackets and finally came across his favourite; it was a black leather jacket with a machine gun design sewed onto the back. Quickly taking off what he wore, he slipped into a crisp white vest and slid the jacket on, admiring it as it shimmered in the sunlight. He rummaged through his clothes again until he found a pair of Levi jeans he saved for special occasions. He liked them because they fit him perfectly, and shoved off his well built legs.

"Are you gonna get ready, too?" he asked, turning around to face Louis.

"Yeah, yeah." Louis replied, pushing away the sheets and standing up from the bed. He stretched out and yawned, scratching his backside as he made his way to the door. "I'll see you in five."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Zoey sat alone at what was left of the dining table and picked at her plate. On it contained the leftovers from last night; cold beef salad with hard-boiled eggs. Eggs were her favourite, especially semi-hard boiled so she could dip golden toast into them. As she shoved some toast into her mouth, Bill burst into the room, now wearing his familiar vet-outfit.

"Hey, Zo." he smiled, chewing on the end of a cigarette. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for the party tonight?" He reached into the fridge and pulled out a cold beer as Zoey turned around to face him.

"We just had a party, Bill, and I feel like shit. I might give it a miss." she replied, quietly.

"Yeah, right. I know the _real _reason you don't wanna go. It's cos of Ro." he sniggered. He had seen right through her. Zoey and Rochelle didn't have the friendliest of histories. Bill assumed it was because they were both women, and their hormones got the better of them.

"Whatever you say." she said, coldly, turning back to her leftovers.

"Oh, please come!" he begged, standing beside her and grabbing her shoulder. "It's much more fun when there's a pretty girl there..."

She giggled as she turned red; she never could resist his charming words.

"Well, all right. But just a while." she laughed. "And I'm not drinking!" she added, shoving an egg into her mouth.


End file.
